Areyshland Isles
by Rainy Illusionist
Summary: A group of high-schoolers set out on their summer field trip with some of their "AWESOME" school teachers, who of course are personifed countries. When religion begins to come into view, some things should be left alone. OCs. Changed name to fit story.
1. Prologue : Reminiscence

**A/N:**

**Hey, this is Rainy here! I was in a begrudging mood after reading a very religiously insulting 'fanfiction', so here is my story-rant on it! From several character's point of view.** **If you know Blaze, Kris, Italia, or anyone on When Worlds Collide RP forum, then yuppers - it's using their and my own characters!**

**Beware of a bit of cursing, personified countries going haywire, religious insults, OCs, and death scenes. Oh, and don't forget implied romance! USUK, Spamano, etc! And maybe OC love /winkwinknudgenudge/ **

* * *

Jeremy couldn't breathe.

Everything was pitch-black, including the dried blood he felt on his hands. They were sore and aching, tied behind his back, with the rope digging into his flesh. He wanted to cry out, scream for help, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Perhaps it would attract _their_ attention, and get his brother and him into even more trouble. Jeremy swallowed anxiously, a new wave of guilt washing over him. If he hadn't had cried out, if he hadn't had agreed to the stupid trip in the first place, if he had just stayed home…

But, of course, nothing would get done with him moaning to himself. He was London, for God's sake! He _had _to do something, anything that could help his fellow nations; especially his fellow capitals. They were all in the same situation now; no grudges could hold back the feeling of anguish and hope that he felt now. With contrasting feelings in his gut, Jeremy rolled around uselessly, knowing that no matter what he did, and no matter how many survival guides and near-death experiences he had, he wouldn't be able to get out of a simple knot.

Wasn't he pathetic?

"Once upon a time, very far away," Jeremy sang quietly to himself, his eyes wandering to another huddled and tied figure in front of him, "Our distance apart was also very far away.

"Swords and magic," he continued softly, "a rose clock, lost the day after tomorrow. Counterclockwise, an iron handle and a steel blade that sparkles. The overflowing essence of water and fire that is ironically the name of a weapon arrives; that is a united fate."

He kept on singing, the song a gentle lullaby he had learned long ago fresh in his memory. Was it from a Japanese immigrant? He didn't remember. He didn't care, either. _Swords and magic. A rose clock._ The swords of the Hundreds' Year War, the magic of gunpowder and ships, the rose clock of the French; he'd seen it all, right in front of his eyes. The rose clock was once his, a gift that didn't belong in his home. The French were the beautiful clock's original owners; he had felt no right to keep it. That was when he had returned it back to them, and ended up watching it ticking high above the bodies, as if mocking all the death around him.

_I don't want that to happen again. I don't want everyone precious to me to just…disappear._

It was a selfish thought, but as desperate as it was, something that he desired to achieve. So many people had lost their lives in his lifetime as a capital. He had tried to fight along with his brother in the American Revolution, but Jeremy had suffered a bullet wound almost immediately as he started the battle.

He had also stood by and watched aimlessly at the Boston Massacre. The colonists, egging the "redcoats" on had disgusted him, and then how his own soldiers and kinsmen had fired so spitefully into a crowd of people had shocked him. He hadn't even lifted a hand in resistance, but just shook in fear as he watched hell break loose in a place he had so enjoyed living in.

It was so funny how his current situation made him reminiscence about the past. Looking up, Jeremy blinked tears out of his emerald eyes, his longer, scruffy blonde hair falling into his face. The figure that was just in front of him breathed deeply and evenly, obviously lost in sleep. If he could just drift off into the desired sleep, and walk in a world where his love was, all the pain he had felt until now would be well worth it.

_But that's impossible, isn't it?_

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**A/N:**

**Yeah. So that's the Prologue! Therefore you should review this, because the great Prussia commands it! Of course it doesn't make sense yet. That's because you don't really know the characters' backgrounds yet, aye? **

**Review for goodness, flames will be ignored, and of course pairings you'd like to see! If you have one of your character featured in here, go ahead and ask for OC pairings. Also, if you want your OC to be in a religious tolerance adventure, just send a PM or review.**

**Kthnxbai.**

**Signing out, Rainy!**


	2. Chapter 1: Summer Trips are Great

Everything was quiet and especially peaceful. Jeremy and Rainy were napping contently in their corner, beside a tall oak tree, while Himuro was playing a card game with Jay, another oddball Asian. Mac and Dominic, the Italian cousins, were talking quietly about the year, with Pablo, the fun-loving Spaniard, standing beside them, winking at Mac, causing her to blush and swear in Italian. Jordan and Benoit were both star-gazing, watching the skies with keen interest. The stars twinkled merrily above them, acting as bright guides in the student's night-time play session. School was out, and the to-be sophomores and graduates were all chilling out to celebrate and know each other.

"It's a tie," Jay sighed, slapping her cards down angrily. She was quite annoyed that the other Asian had made no comment throughout the game.

"You know we are bored when we end up praying a game of Go-Fish or Uno," Himuro said with his heavy Japanese accent, trying not to break the peaceful moment everyone was having.

The two decided not to say anything after that. It was too perfect of a moment, so they just ignored each other and went off to either take a nap or watch the stars, like Jordan and Benoit. Mac and Pablo were still squabbling away, with Mac's shrill retorts echoing Pablo's great laughter. Dominic just gave his opinions at certain points, until one of his unusually sly ones caused Mac to shout, "NICKY, TO YOUR CORNER!"

That broke the moment. Everyone woke from their stupor, and Rainy yawned, wiping her eyes and grinning lopsidedly at the couple. "Pablo, what's going on?" she asked, still smiling.

"Haha, Mac won't admit that she loves me!" Pablo put on a mock melancholy expression, causing Mac to gripe about how annoying he was.

Dominic nudged Mac good-naturedly, letting out a squeak when Mac then lightly hit him on the arm, jokingly. Pablo let out another roar of laughter, which led to Jeremy twitching noticeably in his sleep. For some reason, he hadn't woken from his sleep, even after the commotion that the Italian and the Spaniard had made.

"Jerkface~ Hey, Jerkface, rise and…not shine!" Rainy poked Jeremy on the shoulder, intending to wake him up. When he didn't move, Rainy frowned and pushed him over. When that still didn't work, Rainy knew something was up. "Mac!" she said, a bit urgently. "Guys, he won't wake up."

"Rainy, you know the stupid Scone Bastard is just faking it," Mac pointed out gruffly. She made a point to show that she did not like the Briton one bit.

"Yeah." Pablo agreed sagely. "He's faking it, if my cute little tomato says so!"

"You…!" Mac half-snarled, before leaping upon Pablo with sudden rage, yelling, "I'M GONNA CASTRATE YOU WITH MY SPOON!"

Ashton, who had been feeling a bit invisible the entire time, jumped into the fray, grabbing Mac by the arms and attempting to pull her back from clawing the poor man to death. She whined convincingly, hoping that Mac would calm down and stop acting like such a _tsundere._

"Mac, Mac, calm down!" Ashton yelped. "Pablo didn't mean it like that! He's just being overly-friendly, it's nothing to castrate him about!"

"Yes, it is!" Mac hissed. "T-tomato Bastard should just go die! He doesn't deserve the spoon!" her stutter just made Pablo smile even wider.

"Guys, I'm serious!" Rainy repeated. She slapped Jeremy with her hand, but saw no reaction. "Jeremy! _Jeremy!_"

After realizing that something was actually wrong, Mac and Pablo turned their heads in surprise. Ashton let go of Mac, quickly sprinting over to see what was wrong. Jordan and Benoit blinked at the stars before looking in their direction, a bit dazed. Both Jay and Himuro leapt up from their positions and ran over, as well.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jay said, her voice rising in pitch.

"Don't 'fuck' me," Rainy snapped. "Look for yourself, he isn't breathing – wait, scratch that, he's breathing."

Jeremy's shallow breaths were growing quicker by the minute. His face was scrunched up in a scowl, as if exhausted from a long battle. He was biting his lip so hard that it was bleeding, and his hands were balled up into tight fists.

"Okay, never mind, _fuck._" Rainy gulped. "Who the hell here knows what's going on?"

Mac, Pablo, Dominic, Jordan, and Benoit had all gotten there by then, and Jordan was bending down to feel Jeremy's pulse. Her face held an expression of pure puzzlement.

"He's fine," she told the rest of them. "It seems that he is having a nightmare."

"A _nightmare?_" Mac said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that it? A stupid nightmare, and we're freaking out? Rainy, stop overreacting, dammit."

"Aiyah, aru, it's just…" Rainy trailed off, bending down next to Jordan to poke at Jeremy's cheek again. "He doesn't look normal anymore. Like he's off in another world of his, aru."

"She's right."

The group of highschoolers all turned around to see a decent-sized, elegant-looking Briton with short blonde hair and sharp emerald eyes. His eyebrows were especially bushy; many girls admired them for some reason. He was a handsome man, but his personality was that of a punk, others would say. Mac narrowed her eyes and Pablo cocked his head at the newcomer.

"England?" Dominic piped up. "What'd you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that Rainy here is correct." The Briton, England, sounded a bit choked up. Benoit looked questioningly at him. "Just a sore throat," he said apologetically, rubbing his throat.

"Okay, what do you mean?" Dominic repeated.

"You'll see for yourself. It happens sometimes for nations…or, personifications." England said.

"Will he wake up?" Ashton was the one to ask this time.

"Yes. He's fine. There's nothing to do for him at this time, so just leave him be and he'll soon be ranting with the rest of your lot."

The highschoolers made a few awkward and unconvinced faces, but left quietly, back to whatever they were doing before. Soon, everyone was in their original positions, and everything was back to 'normal', in the true sense of the word.

"Hey, hey, Mac!" Pablo shouted gleefully at his assumed girlfriend. "I have a really good idea and I want you to hear me out!"

"What is it, Tomato Bastard?" Mac replied with a touch of bitterness.

"Let's all go on a trip, to some cool place!"

"Like a field trip?"

"Yeah, like a field trip, only awesomer!"

"That's not even a word!"

"Now it is~! You agree with me, don't you, my sweet tomato?"

The last bit of Pablo's sentence threw Mac off. _Sweet tomato?_ _Did he just call me his _sweet tomato?

"I'm…not agreeing, but I'm not disagreeing, either!" Mac growled angrily back at the Spaniard.

Dominic looked surprised. "Mac usually says something about castrating Pablo whenever he mentions something like that. Does that mean…she's accepting it…?"

Ashton uttered a small gasp, while Jordan and Benoit sniggered quietly. _About time!_ They all thought, smug with the situation.

England, on the other hand, was looking at Pablo with something between an answer and an insult. Or, maybe that was because his passive expression always looked somewhat like a scowl. "That isn't a bad idea," England said, after some time, and very slowly. "But you'll need chaperones."

"I see where this is going!" Dominic piped up. "_Please please please please, England, please?" _Dominic puppy-eyed England, while Pablo flashed another one of his charming grins. Mac just grumbled stubbornly and tugged fiercely at his sleeve with one hand, and used the other to tug at his red necktie.

"I know," England sighed. "I, for one, know who's going to agree and who is not. That basically means," he added, with a slight smile, "Yes."

"IGGY! I LOVE YOU!" Rainy shouted, and bombarded England with her glomps. Dominic followed quickly after, downing the nation with their humorous squeals and hugs. Mac just watched in horror while Pablo giggled.

"Don't you start calling me Iggy, you imbeciles!" England growled, pushing off the two reluctantly. After all, there was a great wide blush on his face, and everyone could see he was happy about being hugged. "Only the idiotic American calls me that, and he doesn't have permission, either."

"We still love you!" Dominic squeaked. Rainy smiled her Grandmother Rachel's gleeful smile, and England just mumbled something about "kids these days" and "what is this madness".

Without further ado, they heard a small groan and saw Jeremy blink awake from his sleep. "How was it?" England asked, his emerald eyes staring into his younger brother's. The two looked almost identical; just Jeremy looked much…scruffier.

"Like living through hell again," Jeremy commented, before rubbing the back of his head. "I never want to see another French man with weapons anymore, or Joanne of Arc, for that matter."

"What, your first crush?" Mac asked sarcastically.

"W-w-what!" Jeremy stuttered, blushing a vivid red. "No!" he glared at the female Italian with something between spite and guilt.

"What's with the guilty expression?" Dominic questioned the Briton, a sly smile playing on his lips. A Russia-worthy aura began to vibrate off of him.

"Shhh, I believe we were in the middle of a much different conversation," England intervened, aware that if the little spat continued, it would become a full-blown brawl. "The nations would be delighted to join you on your 'field trip'." He said, firmly ending any objections. "No one would reject that offer."

"Well, it seems we're supposed to be marching off on an adventure," Jeremy grumbled. "Pray tell me _where_ we are going?"

"To the Areyshland Isles." A deep German voice boomed out from behind the group. Everyone turned around to see a tall, well-muscled man with a stoic expression. His blonde hair was slicked back in an army-like fashion, and his face betrayed no good humor. Beside him was a more feminine, shorter version of himself; another German, only with a touch of English blood added in. The girl towered over the rest of the group, causing Dominic to hide behind Mac and Himuro to salute quickly.

"Areyshland Isles? What? I've never heard of anything like that," Mac protested. "Are you saying you're basically dragging us to Narnia, dammit?"

"In the true sense of the word," England huffed. "We've been planning this for quite a long time. Areyshland Isles is the place where our World Conference is held – a real place. It's unheard of because we made sure the world wouldn't know where we were when we're having our meetings, or else we'd get sabotaged, obviously, with the mafia lurking around every corner."

"Yes," Germany spoke roughly, right after England finished his sentence. "Areyshland Isles is where we hold our World Conferences. Only our bosses and us know about it."

"This time, we are debating both religious intolerance and law," England added. "America is going solely because of the Butler Act that happened nearly a century ago, in 1925."

"Ja, but we're only letting you go because you have a tendency to disagree with France and America," Germany put his two cents in. "England, you know that you don't even know if you're Protestant or Catholic."

"Shut up." England said, flatly.

"Well, then it is settled." Katja, the English-German girl beside Germany, spoke up. "We are leaving for Areyshland Isles quite soon; this weekend, actually." She counted the days in her head. "So, exactly two days for you to prepare, not counting today."

"Saturday? What time on Saturday?" Rainy piped up.

"We'll call you an hour in advance," England replied. "So run off and tell your parents."

There was a great commotion around the hill, where every single one of the highschoolers jumped up and did a small jig of happiness, excluding Katja. Each one of them looked at each other with good humor, nudging and pushing playfully. The summer was going to be great!

Mac looked a bit pale, though, and Pablo noticed it first. "Oh, Mackie, what's wrong?" he asked, worried. "You look so pale, unlike your normal tomato self!"

"It's nothing, Tomato Bastard," Mac snapped back. Within that second, the color returned to her face and she looked perfectly normal again.

Pablo blinked, then laughed and shook his head. It was just his imagination, after all. His little Mac wouldn't suddenly get all pale over such a small matter! She should've been excited that she could tag along with the countries, for such a big and important meeting.

But Mac wasn't feeling well. No, not at all. Her gut told her something was definitely going amiss, behind the scenes, just she couldn't exactly grasp _what. _It was just so….odd. Something was wrong, but no one knew what. Shaking her head in disbelief, Mac pushed away the feeling of terror and smiled.

Nothing was going to go wrong.

Was it?


	3. Chapter 2: Sexual Tension! Two Days Left

**A/N**

**You don't know how much I love you guys. Blaze and Kris, I've got to say, thanks for reviewing and being awesome, as usual. You've already been awesome enough on the forum…Here, have a batch of fresh vital regions I picked! *hands those two the vital regions***

**And to answer Myrna Maeve, yes, this was inspired by that fanfiction-creator. S/he doesn't exactly exist anymore and took down that fanfic, so all is well. I just want to continue because I want to, as usual, and my efforts shall not be wasted. Teehee, you have a vital region, too. *hands a vital region***

**Yeah. Enjoy the filler! These two chapters are going to be fun to write.**

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**Chapter 2: Two Days!**

Two days left until the group of teens left for Narnia-err, Areyshland Isles.

"WOO! WE'RE GOIN' TO NARNIA, GUYS!" Rainy cackled, running out of her house to the group of teens that waited in front. They had gathered everyone - absolutely _everyone_ - that knew about the countries. Or, at least, were invited. The group consisted of Pablo, Mac, Dominic, Ashton, Jordon, Benoit, Jeremy, Emma, Katja, Nissa, Jay, Himuro, Rainy, Hailey, Harper, Abigail (or Abby), Francine, and Shelly.

"Not Narnia, dammit!" Mac snapped at the ignorant Chinese-English girl. "It was something like Arapeland Islands!"

"Pffft, A-rape-land," Pablo laughed openly. Oh, his little Mackie could be so cute.

"Oh my god, they're going to rape us," Dominic squeaked fearfully. His face was a mask of sudden surprise and defeat.

"Nein, dummkopf," Katja deadpanned tiredly. How did she deal with this group every. Single. Day? "It was Areyshland Isles, not some sort of fantasy land where your dreams of getting raped comes true."

"Since when did I want to get raped, dammit, you stupid Potato Bastard?" Mac retorted with her Romano-styled answer.

"Since you hooked up with Pablo?" Rainy attempted to answer Mac's sarcastic question. Her response was a buttload of Italian swears and a Romano headbutt. "I'm sorry, aru, sorry!" she wailed, as Mac began to chase her down with an evil gleam in her eyes.

"Come on, Mac, you can do it!" Pablo cheered, as if it was all a game to him. Jay couldn't help but facepalm at the stupidity going on around her. Himuro simply took out a camera and began snapping away.

Hailey decided it was her time to shine. "Dominic!" she began, her eyes screaming mischief. "Come here for a moment!"

Dominic walked towards her, as if in a trance. He didn't expect the bright girl to do anything to him. After all, she looked really nice, and her America-worthy smile shone proudly among the group of mafia-attacked teens.

"I'll rape you~!" Grabbing at Dominic, Hailey pounced upon the unsuspecting Italian, thinking that he would turn tail and run. Sadly, it was the opposite effect – Dominic let out a small "ve!" and hugged the girl back.

"GET OFF MY COUSIN, YOU, YOU-!" Mac seemed at loss for words for once. Her face was suddenly a dark red, and you could almost literally see the fumes puffing out of her ears. Her hazel eyes glared at Hailey, ready to charge at any moment, head posed in a headbutt-style.

"Come at me!" Hailey replied defiantly, holding out her arms in a bull-wrestling fashion.

"Aiyah, that girl has such a short attention span, aru," Rainy frowned, walking up behind a still-taking-pictures Himuro.

"Yes, but it makes good pictures, you sree?" Himuro said, accent thick as ever.

Rainy leaned over to examine the professional pictures Himuro had taken, while Pablo ran out into the middle of the to-be brawl and squeezed Mac and Hailey into a tight hug. Mac shouted something that sounded like "_merde!_" and Hailey wheezed silently as the crazy Spaniard tightened his already iron-clad grip.

"That's French, my sweet tomato!" Pablo smiled at Mac.

"Well, well, _well,_ then, _vaffanculo!_" an enraged Mac glared back at a very cheery Pablo.

"No! I will not fruk off, thank you very much!" Pablo huffed in mock anger. He dropped both struggling girls and crossed his arms, trying to look intimidating and vicious, only to look hilarious, with his eyebrows furrowed and a dribbling lower lip.

"Spaniard, you do know you look absolutely idiotic, right?" Jeremy pointed out in a no-nonsense tone.

"…Si, my good friend, si." Pablo lowered his gaze to the slightly shorter boy. He and Jeremy locked eyes for a moment, before grinning and throwing their arms around each other like old friends, cackling away madly.

"Okay, what the hell are they up to now, dammit."

"Surprise buttsex?" Rainy gigglesnorted.

"…Wha-oh." Nissa looked at Rainy, first acting confused and then blushing.

"Did you just say _buttsex?_" Dominic burst into a fit of giggles.

"I…I think I support this pairing." Jay doubled over laughing, tears cascading down her face.

"We heard that, you know~" The group saw the killer duo turn around and give them cheery grins that could have been 2p!worthy.

"…We'll be right back, Mac, since it seems like someone's mad." With that, Rainy, Jay, and Dominic dashed off in a hurry, Jeremy following close behind with something that looked like England's cooking in his hands. Only in the shape of cupcakes.

"Well, my little tomato, that leaves you and me." Pablo smirked happily.

"Well, my little _ritardo_, I wouldn't be so sure," Mac spat back, ears red with embarrassment.

"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put U and I together."

"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put F and U right snug next to each other."

"Your eyes…they're amazing."

"Seeing your back would be pretty amazing, too."

"Hey, my little sweet tomato, what's your sign~?"

"Do not enter."

"Your body. It's like a temple."

"Sorry, no services today."

Pablo sighed in frustration. Pick-up lines weren't working on his beautiful red tomato today. But a steely glint returned to his eyes, and Pablo decided it was time he acted like a true man. He would sweep Mac right off her feet in an awesome, Prussia-like confession. His father would be impressed with his skills. He knew it was the right time. No one was here, only both of them. He would do it. He could do it.

"Mackenzie," Pablo started, getting down on one knee, "Will you—"

There was a loud _splurch_ in the background, and Pablo turned around to see a Spain holding a bloody nose while a dumbstruck Romano held a basket of tomatoes in his arms. Italy was close behind, a clueless expression on his face, until he saw Pablo down on one knee. He suddenly began to "ve, ve, ve~!", and Romano woke from his stupor and began to stutter, "C-ch-chigiiiii!"

Great timing, guys.

Spain waved his unused hand at his son, giving him a brief thumbs-up before walking away, Romano following close at his heels and shouting insults behind him in Italian. Italy just said "Good luck, Pablo!" and chased after his brother and friend.

"Hey, Pablo, what're you doing, aru?" Rainy popped out of nowhere, with the rest of the group with her. Jeremy was still smiling, but holding his hands behind his back, as if hiding something. The look on everyone's faces said _don't ask for your own safety._

"N-nothing, nothing at all." Pablo swallowed angrily and looked at the ground. Wow, guys, he was just about to get it perfect, too! Why of all times did they have to come at the perfect moment, to ruin the perfect-ness of his confession!

"You don't look to well, aru," Rainy mentioned.

"I think we interrupted something," Ashton murmured.

"Y-yeah." Dominic agreed.

Benoit and Jordon exchanged glances before apologizing hastily in their own languages, backing off as they sensed the dangerous aura resonating from Pablo. Jeremy just gave him a smug look before following the rest of the gang, off to a place where they wouldn't annoy Pablo any more.

Narrowing his eyes venomously, Pablo knew that he would end up taking Mac's spoon and castrating Jeremy one day.

Jeremy knew that he wasn't going down without a fight. He had cupcakes waiting just for Pablo.

Thus, the already-brewing rivalry began anew, and the day ended without much more bickering, just a very, very, _very awkward silence._

* * *

Spain was holding a small meeting with the other countries. Holding up a hand for silence, he surveyed the scene around him. They'd all gathered at school, in the Teacher's Lounge, and locked all doors and windows for good measure. They had also closed all blinds, and only one light had been lit in the entire room.

Smiling contently, Spain began to speak. "My little Pablo decided he would…ahem, was going to confess, it seems. Short and sweet moment. But I think I broke it…anyone have advice on how to deal with this situation?"

Silence.

"Okay," Spain decided at another approach. "Just tell me how to give love advice while being a good parent."

England snorted in the background. Spain glared at him with contempt in his eyes. "_Mi amiga,_ I think you've been a worse parent then me, si?" he spat out the words with poison dripped into them.

America, Canada, and Hong Kong all stiffened at the mention of bad parenting. England raised his eyebrows calmly, barely concealing his raging-hot fury at his old rival.

"I assure you I've realized I made mistakes when parenting my…brothers." England said the words slowly, as if they pained him to say. "But this is something that happens every day. A common occurrence. You don't need to seek us just to ask for love advice, or as you mentioned earlier, parenting advice."

"Well, my old friend," - Spain could feel himself tensing up, as well – "But this is not that much of a common occurrence. I want you all to help me bring these two lovebirds together, as quickly as possible, si?"

America laughed his loud, aggravating "ddddd" laugh. "Dude, not cool," he started, chewing on a McDonald's hamburger and slurping some Coke down as well. "You've grot yur owen prorbems, and I sure don't know how'ta deal with 'em!" his mouth full, the sentence sounded grotesquely pronounced.

"America!" England gave his former colony a startled look. "Swallow, for God's heavenly sake! We don't need to hear your American English here, if not with your mouth full!"

Swallowing reluctantly, America returned the stare. "There's nothing wrong in me doin' what I do, dude," he muttered. "But all you've got to do is just no intrude on them and I betcha they'll be fine. Right, guys?"

The rest of the nations murmured their agreement, except Prussia and France. They looked a bit skeptical, and France voice his own opinion.

"_Mon ami_, I say we help him," he nodded sagely.

"Haha, the Awesome Me agrees, too!" Prussia laughed. "We should bring them together, so it'll be really awesome and all! Not as awesome as me and Gilbird, but you know!"

"I suppose…" Japan nodded, but Switzerland had different ideas.

"Man up before I hit you with my Peace Prize!" he glared at Japan.

"A-ah…okay." Japan ducked his head, afraid of another beating with the Peace Prize.

"How about we try to bring them together in the trip?" France proposed. Everyone chorused their agreement quickly, wanting the meeting to end.

"And if that doesn't work, well, it wasn't meant to be, kesesesese!" Prussia laughed. His red eyes scanned the room with ill humor. The day was closing, and everyone was shuffling to move out and go home. But he knew that something was wrong. Some…_presence_ that didn't belong. But he didn't see anything out of the oridinary…it must just be his little birdie, Canada, again.

Yes. That must be it.

* * *

**A/N**

**More sexual tension. Mwhaha, sexual tension. Like England and America all over again, only it's Spain's son and Italy's grandchild this time. And more unepic cliff hangers! Don't you all love those unepic cliff hangers. **

**I FORGOT MY DISCLAIMER. I don't own Hetalia, but I own some of the characters here and all other used characters go to their respectful owners. Hm? Flamers? Come at me, bro, they'll just be used to fuel my motivation and create more hate.**

**Like adding fuel to the fire, my friends.**

**Signing out, Rainy!**


	4. Chapter 3: Last Day, Something's Wrong

**A/N**

**Random chapter uploads! Fillers are for smart people! /excuses for writing boring fillers**

**But there has to be something leading to what happens at Areyshland Isles, right? NO, NO RAPE. At least, if there is, don't worry. I won't write details about it. And none of anyone else's characters are going to lose their virginity, if I'm going to have someone raped, okay?**

**...why would they even rape them in the first place. Pish posh, cheerio, mate, no rape.**

**Enough of my ramblings. Thank you for reviewing if you do. I read them all.**

**:3**

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**Chapter 3: One Day Left, Something's Wrong**

* * *

_ "Germany, what's wrong?" Italy smiled obliviously, a small smile playing upon his lips. He stretched out a hesitant hand, letting it rest on the German's cheek, as if in a trance. _

_ "Nothing, Italy," Germany replied in his gruff accent. Today was not a good day to disturb him…his Italian friend should know that._

_ Suddenly frowning, Italy looked up at Germany, opening his beautiful golden-brown eyes. "There is something wrong," he told Germany. "Something is out of place; something that doesn't belong here."_

_ "How…?" Germany's voice trailed off. He didn't know what to say. After all, he had thought Italy was just as innocently ignorant of all the whispers inside his head, even when Germany had struggled to explain the sounds he had heard._

_ "I hear them, too," Italy said, thoughtfully. "They're so nostalgic. They're familiar, and really sweet for me to hear."_

_ The voices Italy had heard were obviously not what Germany had heard. Sighing, Germany lifted his sky-blue eyes to the ceiling, a feeling of overwhelming defeat falling on him. For some reason, he knew those voices inside his head held nothing but trouble. They were like messages telling him to not do something, but what?_

_ "So, what did you hear?" Italy had pressured him. "Mine say something about 'together' and 'desire'. Do yours?"_

_ "That sounds very dirty, Italy." Germany couldn't help but point that out. _

_ "Not to me," Italy had answered him dreamily. "It gives me a very warm feeling in my chest. I think I miss whoever had told me those words. I miss them a lot."_

_ "Okay," Germany swallowed. "I will tell you what mine said, but do not go and tell anyone else, okay, Italy?"_

_ "Yes, I won't tell anyone else, just tell me, please!" Italy hopped up and down, trying to match the tall German in height._

_ Bending down, Germany had whispered softly into Italy's ears, quiet enough so no one would hear him. Italy's immediate reaction had been a small but acute gasp, and then followed by a devastated sob. He had begun to shake, his face buried in his hands, and he shook his head in despair._

_ "Italy. Italy!" Germany steadied the shorter adult. "It's not evil. It's not something to cry over, and you know that."_

_ "No," Italy had sobbed back. "It's evil. It's just…evil." He stopped shaking, but tears prickled his eyes. "Those three words, they're wrong. They can't come true!"_

_ "Italy, I don't see what's wrong with them," Germany shook his head. "They aren't even evil-sounding. Tell me, what do you see- or hear - in them?" _

_ "I don't think you would ever understand." Italy's normally bouncy voice had gone flat and hard. "No, you would never understand." With that, he had swiftly turned his back on his best friend and walked off, the bounce in his step replaced by a limp._

_ Germany could only watch him leave, confused._

* * *

"GERMANY, ITALY!" Mac woke up from her sleep, screaming both said country's names. Struggling to get up from her bed, she blearily looked around her room, realizing that she wasn't in the middle of the conversation she had just seen. Sighing, she leapt up from her bed, grabbing her usual clothes from the top of her drawer. She'd been lazy, Mac noted, and didn't put her clothes neatly back to where they had belonged yesterday. Funny.

Walking downstairs with her usual attire of messy, paint-crusted jeans and her dark blue hoodie that said "awesome", she said a short hello to Jack, her uncle. Her parents had died in a car crash, so she'd moved in with her cousins' family. Jack took care of Dominic, her cousin, and herself. The saddest part was that he had a hand in the Italian mafia, which Mac so bitterly remembered had tortured many of her friends. She didn't want to even think about what happened to her uncle at that time.

"Mac, there you are!" Mac turned around to see Dominic smiling at her, gulping down a breakfast of cereal. "Mmm, usually you wake up earlier than this," he continued, swallowing, and then wiping the milk-stache he had obtained on his sleeve.

"Ah, I had a nightmare, dammit." Mac replied, stoically. She hoped Dominic didn't notice the nervous gleam in her eye.

"Oh? Okay," Dominic flopped down on his chair, and then sat back up goofily. Grabbing his now-empty bowl, he dashed to the sink and washed it down quickly, making sure to erase any sign of grime on the bowl and then placing it delicately in the washer.

"I'll have some breakfast," Mac sighed, before grabbing her own bowl and pouring both milk and Cheerios into it. Dominic handed her a clean metal spoon, and she began to absently mix the two ingredients together.

"Mac…you know your food's going to be nothing but pulp at the rate you're mixing it!" Dominic noted, and Mac blinked as she noticed she'd stirred a bit too much. The cereal was now just a blob of wheat and honey. Something non-edible in her standards. If she was England, then maybe she'd enjoy more squishy foods, too. Actually, she'd enjoy probably every single dish out there, considering his cooking tasted like absolute crap.

As if summoned by Mac's very thoughts, said country burst through their door, with Jeremy slung across his shoulders, struggling to get out of his brother's grasp. England glared at his little brother before dumping him unceremoniously on the ground and giving him a short scolding.

"…What the hell." Mac looked at the two Britons with nothing short of mild interest, as if it happened every day.

"Eep!" Dominic squeaked in surprise. He, for one, did not feel comfortable with people suddenly appearing in his house.

"I'm sorry for the rude entrance, but _you have to get out of here._" England looked out of breath, now that Mac actually looked at him. His cheeks were rosy and he was panting, if not quietly.

"But why?" Dominic spoke first.

"_Now._" Something in England's voice told them not to argue.

The Italian cousins exchanged quick glances before following the two British brothers out of their home, but not before locking their door securely. You don't know who is out there nowadays. Thieves and vagabonds are always patrolling each area, looking for prey to steal from.

"Okay, England, I think you should tell us what's going on, dammit," Mac shouted as they sprinted down the empty street.

"Damn Spaniard is missing," Jeremy replied curtly, as if he didn't want to talk.

Mac and Dominic were silent after that short answer. Pablo was missing? For some reason, Mac felt her heart skip a beat. No. It couldn't be true. Pablo couldn't be missing. Pablo was always okay whenever she saw him. Yes. He _had_ to be fine. Nothing could touch him. Only she had permission to injure him.

What was she thinking?

Slapping herself angrily, Mac snarled as she accidentally rammed into a telephone pole, causing Dominic to yelp and the two Britons to turn around and see if she was fine. She was, since the only thing hurting was her broken ego.

"Pablo. Where did you last see him, damn you?" Mac shot the question, her anger blossoming on her face.

"Spain says he returned home in a bad mood yesterday," England told her. "He went straight to bed. When Spain woke up, he didn't see Pablo in his room, and his sheets were torn and messy. Plus," he added bitterly, "There was blood. Lots of it."

Mac couldn't help but gag at the thought of Pablo's perfect flat in such a mess. And the blood! Whose blood could it be? Her immediate thought was directed towards the two people in front of her. She knew the British always had this grudge against the Spanish, or at least the ones in front of her. They were prime suspects. Of course they were prime suspects, they seemed to be on guard, as if wary of whatever questions she was going to throw at them. Oh, she would weedle out the information soon enough, yes! She would castrate them all-

Okay. Enough thoughts. _What in the blaze's name was she thinking._

Calming her shattered wits, Mac stared at the sky, realizing that it was raining. Cool rain splattered against her, at first a slight drizzle, then a full blown shower. It cascaded down on the four figures, causing them to throw their coats or whatever clothing they had them over themselves. But not Mac. No, not the sweet tomato Mac. She just sat there, her eyes glued to something unseen.

Voices.

_"Here—They-"_

_ "Help…"_

_ "No air…"_

"Oh my god," Mac gasped, seeing Dominic's worried face over hers. "Nicky, oh my god, Nicky!"

"Mackenzie!" Dominic shouted, using her full name for the first time. "What—what's going on…?"

"Jeremy, you, you're still here, right…?" Mac hiccupped.

"Yes, why, Mac? Are you fine? We can carry you home," Jeremy's voice lingered, distraught.

"You—you can…breathe, right…?" Mac asked.

"Of course! Now worry about yourself, twat." Mac felt something warm being draped over her. Jeremy's coat.

She'd heard it. She'd heard Jeremy gasping for air, saying in a weak voice, "no air". That accent was unmistakably British, and young. It sounded just like Jeremy, or maybe even England. It…it had scared her. She'd felt, for the first time, real fear. How did Mac know it was fear? Because it didn't just knot her gut, make her sweat, and tear up – no, it was just an indescribable feeling of helplessness, drowning her in the darkest depths of hell, as if killing her for her unknown sins. There was no other word or statement that could describe _fear._ She'd felt it once, when the mafia attacked – now she was feeling it again.

The other two voices? She didn't know. They sounded German, but one was feminine and light, around her 20's, and the other was a more musical, Austrian-like voice mixed with a small amount of Italian-Spanish accent. It wasn't female, either; it had been male.

She hoped it wasn't Pablo's.

* * *

"Dude, you okay?" America's worried voice drifted over Mac, who was feeling nauseous. It was weird, lying on the American's bed, and even more weird with two Britons and a frowning cousin by her side.

"Yeah, yeah, dammit," Mac answered, rolling over. This was not her idea of a good day at all. In fact, she should've been having fun, preparing for tomorrow.

Wait.

Tomorrow!

Suddenly throwing off her covers, Mac stood on the bed, now about as tall as tall as America, if not a bit taller. "America, we can't go tomorrow," she told him stiffly.

"Eh? Weren't you super psyched about going?" America's shocked face resembled England's.

"No! Something's wrong, terribly, terribly wrong!" she shouted. "They're here. They're coming, and they might kill us. I don't know if it's mafia, or some other crappy organization, but they'll kill us. They'll do things to us, dammit, listen to me, and don't go!"

"Mac," England said, in a very restrained but calm voice, "You're just feeling ill. Rest a while, and you'll feel better. Then you might be able to tell us why you don't want us to leave to Areyshland Isles. We'd have to explain it all to our bosses, you know, and they wouldn't be very happy."

"Dude, take a chill pill," America instructed Mac. "Nothin's gonna go wrong. Nothing at all. So just, you know, chill, take a rest like Iggy here said, and then ya might tell us what you mean. Deal?"

Mac swallowed, hiding a small smile as England's caterpillar eyebrows connected angrily, obviously annoyed by America's English. "I'll do that," she sighed. "But…Pablo?"

"Don't worry, we'll find Pablo by the end of the day," Jeremy piped up. He looked quite honest for once.

"Damn it, you don't have to reassure me or something," Mac gritted her teeth. "I-I don't care about him. He's just a burden, dammit." She felt reassured that Jeremy was actually saying that. He'd even referred to Pablo by his first name, for once, instead of _Spaniard._

"I get it, yes," Jeremy waved her off and began to walk out the door. England followed suite, giving America a look that said _don't die._

"Don't let those two idiots die," Mac sighed, falling back into America's huge hamburger bed. "I don't want them to die by someone else's hand. Not the bushy-brows; they're my prey."

"Ahahaha! Don't worry, the hero will save Brow-man and Little Dude for you," America laughed. Dominic chuckled along with him.

"Mac, we're still leaving tomorrow," Dominic told her. "You're just tired after you heard Pablo was missing. You might've thought the trip was at fault, but it's just coincidence. So calm down, 'kay?" he nodded.

"I'll take care of her," America declared. "I'll give you a call later today when you can pick her up."

"Thank you," Dominic smiled, before walking out the door like England and Jeremy. "Get well, Mac," he cooed flakily, receiving a babble of Italian curses behind him.

Laying back into the bed, Mac blinked a few times, sleep suddenly looming over her. She would take a nap…just for a bit.

After all, there was nothing wrong. Just voices she thought she heard.

* * *

"_Black"_

"_Godless"_

"_Silence"_

"_Heathens"_

* * *

Mac shuddered awake again. The clock said 3:24 pm. Good, she'd only been out for an hour. But what had she heard in that dream? She only remembered four words, and she didn't like them. _Ah, just a dream,_ she waved them off.

America called for Dominic to pick her up. As she walked out the door, she noticed a few figures standing near the bushes. But when she blinked, they were gone. God, she thought, her imagination was really playing tricks on her today. First the voices, now this?

When she got home, Mac sat down, still a bit drowsy. She took out a notebook, then jotted down the words she'd heard previously, both from chasing after the Britons and from her nightmare, or dream. Then, she proceeded to draw a picture of what she thought the shadowy figures had looked like outside.

It was tedious work. Soon, it was already time to go and meet up with everyone. Tired as she was, Mac followed Dominic out to meet her friends, passing the day uneventfully. She didn't even have the energy to chase Hailey or even argue with Himuro about lovechildren. She couldn't even flip Jay off when they'd seen each other, or hold a good conversation with Jordan and Benoit.

She didn't see Jeremy, either.

By the time she got home with Dominic, it was already 9. She showered, then got dressed for bed. She was all packed and prepared, since Uncle Jack helped her yesterday already with the packing. Closing her eyes for sleep, Mac drifted off into a dreamless sleep for once. Her last thought was of Pablo and Jeremy, and how they were doing. She hoped they were well.

How wrong she was.

* * *

**A/N**

**End of chapter 3. Chapter 4 is where, like the wise Mac once said, "shit hits the fan".**

**Oh. Don't worry. Shit won't hit the fan in the next chapter...at least, not too hard.**

**Stay tuned. Review, again, because Prussia will make you awesome. Wait, you're already awesome...nevermindguys.**

**Signing out, Rainy!**


	5. Chapter 4: We Leave, Without Pablo

**A/N**

**Next update! When I receive my writer's block, which I hope I don't, then I won't be able to update quickly (which I already don't.)...sigh. SINCE MY COMPUTER DECIDED TO LOSE ALL OF CHAPTER 4-7 SOBS why must it crash WHY I EVEN SPENT THE ENTIRE MONTH ON THOSE SOBBBU**

**As usual, new chapter. Review, disclaimer that nothing here belongs to me except the story and a few characters, etc.**

**It didn't hit the fan that hard.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: We Leave, Without Pablo**

* * *

She was sweating, anticipating the ring of the telephone. Mac had been up since 5 AM, and that was quite unusual for her during the summer. Dominic sat near her, eyes glued to the phone, biting the bottom of his lip and rubbing his palms together.

_Ring, dammit,_ Mac thought.

And it did.

At first, Mac didn't register that the phone was ringing, until Dominic pounced forward, grabbing it up in his flailing arms and answering with an excited, "Ve~! Dominic speaking!"

"Dominic?" Mac could clearly hear the voice on the other end. It was Italy.

"Italia!" Dominic squeaked in an Italian accent. "How are you?"

"Good, ve! Glad to see you awake and well!" Italy answered happily back. "I'm driving to your house right now. It might take a little longer than I expected, so I called you an hour in advance, like England had told us. I'll be there in about, err, a half hour! So you won't need to wait too long." Mac imagined Italy smiling at the end of his receiver.

"Okay! Mac and I're ready." Dominic spoke so quickly Mac swore she heard him mix the sounds of "I" and "are" together. She stifled her laughter before gesturing for the phone. Her gut was suddenly screaming at her to ask. Ask for _him._

"Feli, Italy," Mac gulped into her receiver. "Is he there?"

"Huh?" Mac heard Italy shift in his car seat.

"_Pablo._ Pablo, Spain's child." Mac forced out.

"…" Nothing.

"Italy. Tell me, please, dammit." Mac couldn't help but let out a 'dammit' at the end of her sentence.

"I think I'll tell you later," Italy's voice was unmistakably still cheery. Or was he faking it?

"Okay then. I'll see you in a bit, then," Mac said, hearing the phone click, then put it back down. She assumed Pablo was safe. After all, Italy wouldn't be the one to lie to her…right?

Right.

"Nicky, grab the pasta container," Mac ordered her cousin. Dominic did a fake salute and dashed upstairs to get the container that they had eaten out of last night. As Mac watched him go, she let her mind wander again to her misadventures during the past year. First, it had been a great encounter with the nations…a confrontation…then the Ware Rabbit, and the mafias. She'd met a good amount of people to call friends, and her babysitting life had gone even better whenever she was nearby the cutesy kid Theo. But yesterday…yesterday, her life felt useless. Rushed. Turned upside-down, just by a single event that wasn't supposed to happen.

"Mac! I got it!" Dominic tripped down the stairs before lurching forward, landing loudly on the kitchen floor. He held the pasta container up as if it was a sacred deity's sacrifice.

"Ah. Give it here." Mac bent down to retrieve the pasta container from Dominic's hands. She opened it, smelling the leftover pasta from last night. Good, it wasn't moldy yet. It was smart of her to have put it in the tiny cooler they had in their room, where they stashed leftovers from time to time to eat whenever they were hungry or doing homework.

"Okay, Nicky, I call dibs," she told him, grabbing a fork and jabbing it into the leftover pasta, swirling it. She lifted up the pasta and then proceeded to put it in her mouth, only to be disturbed by the ring of their doorbell. "Who is it?" she called. Italy wasn't supposed to be here yet.

"Makku-san, sore wa Nihondesu. Watashi wa anata o tsūchi suru kinkyū no nanika o motte imasu. Doa o akete kudasai!" she heard Japan's muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"What'd he just say?" Mac blinked. "That's got to be Japan!"

"I think he said he's got important news for you," Dominic frowned. "And he wants you to open the door. Please."

Mac jumped up from her seat, leaving the half-eaten leftover pasta on the table. She opened the door only to see Japan frowning and holding a dirty coat in his arms.

"W-what?" Mac tried to look relieved. It didn't seem like anything was really wrong. Maybe it was good news?

"Mac-chan, this coat. I'm sure you've seen it before…could you terr me where you rast saw Engrand-san and Jeremy-kun?"

. . .

_Oh, dear God, no._

Mac stared at the ruffled, dirty coat in Japan's arms. Yesterday came flooding back to here in little pieces; first, the discovery that Pablo was missing; two, running out in the rain and that coat; three, reassurance from friends and family. The coat that was usually so shiny and perfect now looked torn and destroyed…it was Jeremy's coat.

"J-J-Japan…" Mac choked out. "Where did you find this?"

Japan frowned even more. "Over there," he pointed west. "Werr, very far out west. As you know, my house isn't very crose to yours, and I found this down in the forest, snagged on a branch, when I was taking a warlk down to Himuro's apartment so I courd pick him up."

_That's way too far away! _Mac's conscious screamed at her. _That's probably twenty miles fucking away, dammit! Twenty miles from where I last saw them!_

"I saw them outside America's home," Mac told Japan stiffly, realizing that Himuro was standing a bit behind him. "Which, of course, is almost twenty or so miles away from that place."

"And in the direction of Areyshland Isles." Himuro added. "Japan told me where we would be flying, and it's in that direction."

"Bull," Mac deadpanned. "That's utter bull. They wouldn't."

"They wourdn't, but that doesn't mearn someone erse wourdn't," Japan sighed.

"Kidnap. You're saying it's kidnap."

"Yes."

"Stop joking. You know how freakin' scary they are when they're pissed!"

"Did you forget the mafia incident?"

Mac paled at the mention of the mafia. Earlier that year, Mac and her group of friends had quite a run-in with the mafia. They'd barely gotten out alive; they still carried a few mental and physical scars from the incident. Then, it happened again, only this time involving _more _people and friends. Benoit had barely survived before he'd been rescued.

"Of course I didn't!" Mac shot back indignantly. "Just they wouldn't dare!"

"They're stirr after them. Those two have arready been caught once, so why not twice?"

"Japan, be reasonable—"

"I _am _being reasonable, Mac-chan—"

"Hey, what's going on?" Dominic piped up, entering the scene at the front door. He looked at Japan to HImuro skeptically, a confused expression on his face. "So what's the big deal? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened," Mac growled. "First, Pablo went missing yesterday, now we've got another two gone. England and Jeremy!"

Dominic visibly paled, almost choking on his own spit and shock. "T-that's three people missing in two days, Mac! Pablo might've gone missing, but England was there with Jeremy. Both of them had guns, and obviously Pablo's a lot stronger than he looks. All three of them're perfectly capable of defending themselves!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell Japan!" Mac grumbled.

"Mac-chan. Risten to me, prease." Japan had a pleading note in his voice, and Himuro was quietly fiddling with his hands.

"I already did, Japan! They couldn't be kidnapped, for Heaven's sake! Pablo's just probably…probably doing something, and of course England and Jeremy are just talking to him! They're taking their time!"

"No, they're not, Mac!" Himuro chimed in. "Have you seen what they used to be—"

Himuro was silenced by his father's stern gaze. Japan made sure to glare extra harshly at Himuro before turning back to Mac, his usual warm brown eyes now cold and unnerved.

"What they used to be?" Dominic repeated, frowning.

"Himuro, you're not to talk about that subject," Japan pointedly replied. "So I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more."

"Hey, you lost the accent and switched your honorary stuff," Mac laughed crudely. "So you're dead serious. Why can't you tell us?"

"Not yet, Mac-chan. Not yet."

Mac grimaced, understanding that Japan wasn't going to tell her any more information. Japan firmly believed that Pablo, England, and Jeremy were missing, and Mac's gut was screaming at her, too. But she just couldn't believe it. It was too far-fetched. She could tell Dominic didn't believe him, either.

"You should get going, Japan, Himuro," Dominic fussed worriedly.

"Dammit, yeah, you've got a tight schedule, too. Don't worry, we'll see." Mac shook her head.

Both Asians looked skeptical, but got the message. They retreated back to their automobile, driving away after a while. The Italian cousins watched the car disappear into the distance.

"…They left this here, damn them," Mac muttered, prodding Jeremy's coat. "Are they trying to make me guilty?"

"Mackkky~! Nicky, veh, I'm-a here! It's time to go!" Italy's voice entered their heads minutes after the Asians drove away.

Mac nodded guiltily. The conversation earlier had shocked and confused her, but she didn't show it, and followed Italy to the shining Ferrari, Dominic not far behind.

* * *

"So's everyone's assembled?" America asked, standing in front of the chatting, talkative and loud group. Both Katja and Abigail stood solemn-faced beside Germany and Prussia; Rainy beside China; Jordan by a smiling Russia; Benoit by France; Mac beside Romano and Dominic beside N. Italy; Harper beside Canada; Hailey beside himself, America; everyone was assembled. He didn't bother to count everyone, thinking that since he'd seen the majority, everyone was there. He was wrong, obviously.

"No, damn," Mac shouted above the hubbub.

"What's that ya say?" America yelled back.

"Never mind," Mac grumbled, realizing that America would never be able to hear her. Heck, what surprised her was that there was only one agent standing beside the two helicopters that was supposed to bring them to Areyshland Isles. "I'll tell you later."

The single agent nodded to America, who silenced the entire group with a wave of his hand. "We're off, dudes! Get in the helicopters, you in there, you go to the next one, yeah…no, Prussia, not with France, you're in the other heli."

As America shouted his orders, Mac slipped off her backpack, opening it quietly, hoping no one would notice in the commotion to get onto the helicopters. Inside was the spoon Pablo had given her, and Jeremy's torn coat. She picked up both in her shaking hands, dropping the coat and staring at the spoon. She swore she could see Pablo laughing in its reflection…but only she, herself, stared back. Did she actually miss the stupid Tomato Bastard?

_That would make me _your _Tomato Bastard, Macky!_

"No, you aren't," she mumbled softly. "You aren't. Not in the least, stupid bastard…"

"Mac, time ta go," America said, suddenly beside her. "Huh, what's this stuff-?"

"_Hey!_" Mac squeaked, her voice dangerously high. "_A-amer-!"_

Too late. America had already picked up the coat. Confusion was written all over his face, and his fingers fondled the torn fabric. His crisp blue eyes clouded over, as if lost in memories, and then he turned back to Mac. His usual grin had been wiped off his face; a small frown had replaced it.

"Mackenzie," he started, using Mac's full name, "What's this?"

"One of my old coats, it's my favorite, dammit," Mac replied hotly, hoping the lie would work.

"Really?" America muttered. "Okay, just get on the heli. They're waiting."

"Say, America, tell me something before I get on," Mac suddenly said, an idea coming to her. "What's your relationship with England?"

America, upon hearing the words, began to grow red in the face. It was his turn to feel defensive, now. "Look, Mac, I'm not his lover or anything like that. We _used _to be brothers. We're just nations now, no relation whatsoever. I don't know what's going on in that mind of yours right now, but just because some friends of yours think we'd make a great couple doesn't mean you should, too! Now get on the helicopter, okay?"

"…'Kay."

Mac walked slowly onto the helicopter, the agent watching her intently. Glancing over her shoulder, she swore that she saw the agent smirk; when she looked again, he'd taken off his sunglasses and was staring straight at her. Or, was it through her?

Trying not to give a small yelp, Mac stepped into the helicopter, eyes still trained on the agent. His blue eyes were slightly clouded over in age, but he looked like he was in his early thirties. His blonde hair flopped neatly sideways, parting in the side. The smirk was now gone, but a trace of a smile still sat politely on his lips. This tiny gesture made Mac quite uncomfortable, as the mafia incident had left her much more aware of the things around her.

She lost sight of the agent, obviously, when she got on the copter. Knowing that it was right to trust her gut feelings after all she'd been through, Mac didn't know what to make of the agent. She felt safer when he was there, though. Maybe his aura made her feel weird?

Sitting down next to Dominic and Ashton, Mac let out a quiet sigh. It was so confusing! What exactly were they going to do in Areyshland Isles? She would rather fart herself to death then sit through a boring meeting.

"Is everyone aboard?" America called, counting."That's one, two, three, four…hmm, five, six…"

"Well—" Mac started.

"Pablo! America, mi amigo, I've been trying to say this for the past hour we've been getting on this contraption! Pablo is missing. My Pablo." Spain snapped, annoyed. His son was missing, and his fellow (stupid and fat) nation hadn't even bothered to count correctly.

"Uh, England and Jeremy, too," Ashton piped up, although only Mac and Dominic (perhaps Canadia) heard her.

"Ashton said England and Jeremy," Mac shouted above Spain and America arguing.

America looked surprised. "So that's why there wasn't any snide comments about me bein' fat or having some sorta crappy language slang! And there wasn't no gentlemen stuff spewing out everywhere!"

"Or the smell of burnt cooking," Spain added slyly. "But those two Britons can take care of themselves. London is with England, then it is fine. But Pablo! I've no idea where he could be, mi amigo! _No idea!_"

"We can't go back to find 'em now, I'll send some search party later—"

"Then I'm staying, America! I've already held myself back, I won't go easy on you if you try to stop me like in those idiotic movies of yours!"

"Dude, calm yo tits—"

"I believe the correct way of saying that would be _calm your breasts, _but I think we all prefer the statement _Spain, calm down._" A sarcastic, snide English voice rang out from behind them.

"Holy mothafacks—" America slurred, turning around, looking wild.

"How did you sneak up on us like that?" Spain said, aggravated and surprised.

Both England and Jeremy strode out in front of them, small smirks playing on their lips. Jeremy's emerald eyes strayed to everyone else's, his eyes filled with something like contempt. Or was it?

"We didn't. You all were just oblivious of our presence!" England cooed.

"England, dude, I don't know how to say this," America looked uncomfortable. "But didn'tcha say you were gonna find Pablo?"

It was England's turn to look confused. He took a step back and cocked his head thoughtfully, then gazed back at America playfully. "I believe he isn't on this continent anymore."

"Eh?"

"That means he's no longer in North America."

"Oh."

America shuffled his feet, looking embarrassed, and Spain simply stared at England, mouth agape and his eyes filled with rage.

"England," Spain hissed. "Why do you look so happy?"

"Oh, do I?" England glanced at his own hand. "I can't tell."

Both Britons were giving off a weird vibe, all smiling and acting quite happy. Mac understood something was most definitely wrong; not only did her gut scream in panic, but her mind was unconsciously recoiling at the thought of their insincerity. They were being absolutely insincere. They didn't care at all…they didn't look for Pablo after all…could they really be the ones that caused it…?

No.

They couldn't have.

Mac shook the thought from her mind, ignoring her gut once again. If she said something right now, it'd sound stupid and no one would listen. It would be pointless to argue, since they were about to lift off, anyways.

"Hop aboard, okay, dudes…" America beckoned to the Britons, who exchanged quick glances and hopped onto Mac's heli. Her stomach did a flip-flop as England turned his usually-angry eyes at her, only to find that they looked a bit loopy.

Did something happen? Were they brainwashed, or something? Mac bit her lower lip agitatedly, lowering her gaze to the floor. Perhaps it was just…something else…?

As the helicopter lifted off, Mac blinked back sleep, realizing that even though it was in the afternoon, she still felt drowsy. The helicopter's low drone and pilot's monotone voice didn't help, either. _Preparing for liftoff in 3…2…1…_

_ Liftoff._

The helicopters shuddered awake, propelling themselves into the air quite slowly. Mac stared out the passenger window, seeing the endless sky spanning out in front of her. The earth was slowly disappearing under the clouds, and the only other thing she could see was the other helicopter with her friends on it. The agent disappeared with the earth, as well.

Just from the sights, Mac knew she was going to have an adventure. Her gut wasn't bothering her anymore, too. That meant all was well.

The helicopter flew on, its passengers blissfully unaware of anything else, other than themselves. Clouds rolled by, and all Mac could hear was the quiet _fwip frip fwip _of the helicopter. She shoved her hand into her hoodie's pocket, revealing a shining silver spoon. She'd just remembered that she didn't give Jeremy back his coat_. Funny he didn't ask for it_, she thought to herself. Nothing bad about that, though; she could give it back to him when they landed.

* * *

_What's your name?_

Mackenzie, but you can call me Mac.

_Where are you going, Mac? Are you a girl?_

Areyshland Isles, and yeah, I'm a girl.

_Ah. The cursed isles. Beware of the Jabberwocky, Mac. Beware of the Queen of Spades. _

What?

_Beware of the Jokers and the cards. Watch your step._

Who is this?

_You may call me Mary._

Mary? Where are you?

_I cannot tell you now, child. My time is up._

Wait, hey, this isn't funny—

_Beware of the Spades, Mackenzie. The Jabberwocky stays trapped under his domain. It's not long until he breaks free of the chains he was bound to for the past eternity._

Mary, I don't get it—

_Once again. Beware of the Spades I have given birth to._

I—what—

_Goodbye._

Huh—?

* * *

Mac was awakened by a dull thud from underneath the helicopter. _We've landed, _she noted as she glanced lazily out the passenger window.

As the pilot droned on about the safety measure they had to take when they left the copter, Mac recalled the dream, or message, she'd received in her sleep. She could still remember it vividly; even the voice's accent. The question was, she didn't even know which accent that was. It was European, perhaps. That was all she knew.

"Yooo, Mac, let's go," America snorted, with Hailey barking out orders to her sister, who was getting out of the other helicopter, which has just landed beside them. Mac jumped off her seat, grabbed her duffel bags and stuffed Pablo's gift (the waxed spoon) into her hoodie pocket once more. Dominic and both Italies followed suit, while the Britons just yawned and hopped off the coptor with one foot.

"Look at the scenery!" Dominic squeaked, voice rising in pitch. "It's like a perfect wonderland!"

Mac couldn't help but agree with her cousin. They had landed in a flat plain, but in the distance she could see towering, snow-covered mountains and lush green forests spreading out in both directions. A large maple tree stood just a few meters away from where they had landed. The plain was a simple, yellowish hue, and it was clear that it had been well-tended for the past decade.

America pointed to a cabin not far from the maple tree. "That's where we'll be staying for the night," he said.

Mac and company nodded. Spain was still looking a bit ticked off, and Romano was as red as his beloved tomatoes. Both of their brows were furrowed together in frustration. Normally, they would've ignored every order they received from other countries. But this trip was important; it was a world conference, after all. If they missed it, then perhaps the entire world/their country would end up destroyed. One detail could make the difference between economical collapse and financial success.

"Everyone, get movin'. We don't have much time before nightfall, and there are some scary critters around here that even I, the hero, don't like to mess with." America sniffed reluctantly.

They all trudged along the prairie/plain in a massive group, chattering away like a pack of parakeets (which was an odd example, Mac grumbled to herself when Ashton brought it up.). They finally got to the cabin, and Mac could tell everyone was worn out from the long day. Spain was looking especially tired; probably because he had so much to worry about, and the strain was showing on him.

"Spain, you should rest," Belgium fretted as Netherlands sent Spain a heavy glare. Romano just sniffed and kicked at his former-boss's feet. In the end, France, China, and Hong Kong had to lift him up between the three of them and carry him to the shower area behind the cabin. They left him there, since none of them wanted to help strip him.

Poland and Lithuania were both talking aimlessly before Russia ordered them both to the boys' side of the unusually large cabin, much to the protest of a sassy Poland. After Russia managed to get them in with his creepy aura, all the males clambered through the door so they could finally get a well deserved rest and a hot bath. The only exceptions were England, Dominic, Latvia, and Jeremy, who decided that it wouldn't be so great to try to cram into the shower area with already so many men arriving there.

All the females proceeded into their side of the cabin in an orderly fashion, single-file. Belgium led the way, then Taiwan, Hungary, and so on. Belarus kept on sending cold glares at any other person who got too close to Russia, mainly the Baltic Trio (and perhaps Poland). Ukraine attempted to calm down her aggravated younger sister, in vain. In the end, everyone got inside and began their hot showers, whether in a large spa or in the separate bathrooms.

Mac was the first to escape the female baths, as Hungary was fussing over Liechtenstein, and telling her to make sure to watch the boys on the other side of the wall in case their hormones acted up. Mac thanked god that nobody had dared peek over the wall, since it was the only thing that separated the boys from the girls. It was just like a Japanese manga, Mac mused to herself.

She sat down in the family room, a large play area that both genders could enter. She switched on the TV, hoping that something good would pop up, but only a repeat of an episode on _National Geographic _and the movie _Eragon_ really showed up. She was severely disappointed to find out that she'd missed the Harry Potter movies, which had played only an hour before. She turned off the TV and settled herself down on a wooden armchair, before whipping out the first volume of Hetalia and began to read.

America lunged into the room right as Mac flipped open the Hetalia manga, startling her and making her drop her favorite little manga. "Hey!" she protested, as America began to laugh. "Not funny!"

"It's okay, you're American!" he declared, much to the dismay of Mac.

"That makes it worse! It's like, like, like…the Witch Trials of Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum!"

"Where the hell did you get that phrase from?"

"Tumblr!"

"_Which blog was it?"_

"Uh, I think it was beekwhy? Or qichi?"

"Dude, I need to go check out those blogs now. Must be major badasses," America mused.

"Dude, they're more than just badass. They are _the _badasses." Mac snorted, copying America's way of speech.

"_Kesesesese, _the Awesome Me has arrived!"

America and Mac both turned to see a top-naked Prussian man storm into the family room, wearing boxers with the original Prussian flag on them. He was still quite wet, and his light hair was slicked down from all the water from his shower. Gilbird sat on his head, chirping angrily at Prussia, obviously annoyed that his perch spot had been ruined without his permission.

"Yo, Prussia, my bro!" America slung his left arm around Prussia, and Prussia did the same with his right arm. They did a quick brofist, before both yelling out, "YOLO!"

"Yolo, damn right!" Abigail stuck her head from around the corner of the family room, only dressed in a…very revealing nightgown. She smiled smugly as the two countries' faces heated up and their jaws dropped.

"Abby, don't do that," Mac said, a bit mildly. Not that she really minded that her friend was getting checked out by two older countries who weren't even virgins. Nope.

"No sex appeal, Mac," Abigail sniffed, pretending to act prissy. "You have to _reveal_ the vital areas, or else no one's going to like you." She tugged at her v-neck.

Mac's face grew a bit hot when Abigail mentioned sex appeal. What right did she have? Right, none. Not that she cared. Mac knew it was a joke, but she wondered, just for a moment, if Pablo would like it better if she had more beauty, more _sex appeal_. She slapped herself twice when she realized what she had just thought of.

"Oh, Prussia, nice abs," Abigail also mentioned lightly, walking over the said country. She poked her father's stomach, causing Prussia to laugh and poke her back.

"Don't do that to your _Vati_," Prussia smirked.

"Come at me."

"Ya sure?"

"Hell yeah."

While father and daughter squabbled, Mac was chewing thoughtfully on a pen she had discovered on a tabletop. America was already beginning to doze off, mouth hanging open and a slight amount of drool gathering on his lips. Mac made a mental reminder to herself to get the others to drag America to his room before someone freaked out at the sight of him.

Denmark made a rude entrance right then, throwing open the door with such force that is nearly broke. His signature grin was plastered all over his face. "Yo ho, guys! Everyone's waiting for you guys back in the bigger gatherin' room. Have enough playtime yet?"

"Hey!" all four protested at the same moment. For some reason, this man was incredibly annoying to them.

"Oh, America, old browface and his younger bro is going to go do their thing later tonight. Nicky too, I think. They don't seem to like us awesome men that much." Denmark shoved a thumb toward his swelling chest, as if he was proud. He gave Prussia an approving nod before stalking off again.

Prussia looked at himself, dressed only in his great Prussian flag boxers, and gave another hearty laugh. He narcissistically began to feel himself over, starting from his muscular torso all the way down to his lower thighs, making faces. Abby resisted the urge to laugh while the other two tried not to vomit from the odd scene.

"Stop'at," Mac giggled between her fingers. "Sop'it."

"You're just too embarrassed to look at my sexy awesome body," Prussia retorted. He did stop touching himself, though, and got up to get dressed. He returned only a few minutes later, this time dressed in an open dress shirt and the same boxers. His hair was dry, too.

"We getting a move on?" he said. Mac, America, and Abby nodded. They got up and swiftly made their way to the gathering room which Denmark had told them about.

"So Denmark got into an argument with poor old Sve? Again?" Mac heard Finland sigh in exasperation as they entered the room. Iceland was sitting with Norway whispering something in his ear, and then the Italies were having a fit about the food given to them (obviously not pasta). Greece was sleeping soundly beside a stoic Egypt, and the Asians were bickering over something that Mac couldn't understand. Everything seemed normal. She would've gotten Italy checked for the hospital room if he didn't complain about his pasta during their trip here, after all.

"Denny, you're in trouble," Mac mumbled, much to Denmark's annoyance. He simply snapped something unintelligible at her before continuing on his own rambles. America settled himself between Canada and France, sighing all the while.

"So what's the trouble?" America yawned.

"Well, who gets what room?" Vietnam voiced everyone's inner thoughts.

"I say that Lithuania, Latvia, and myself get the room near the office, left of here," Estonia declared, with Russia glaring daggers into his back.

"Agreed," Ukraine chirped, and Germany nodded his approval, settling all argument. "One room of occupants, down. Seems like we have to get at least three per room, to get everyone with a room."

"_Kesesesese,_ Germans all together!" Prussia yelled, squeezing Abby, Germany, and Katja into his arms.

"I'm fine with that." Canada whispered, but only Hailey heard. "Me too," she added, although this time only Canada heard.

Thailand raised his arm, and said, "I think Vietnam, Hong Kong, and myself should get a room?"

"I think Norway, Iceland, and Hong Kong would be better," Germany said.

"Where would South Korea go?"

"With North, and then we'd have four occupants including you and Vietnam."

"Okay."

"Denmark can sleep with Sweden and Finland," America shouted.

"I'll have the room near the bathroom," Japan murmured, making everyone strain to hear him. "Would Taiwan and…and China like to share the room?"

"Where do we sleep, then?" Rainy and Himuro grumbled in unison.

"On the floor, here, da ze!" South Korea yelled gleefully.

"Denied!"

"France, Benoit, Russia, and myself would be fine in a room?" Jordan asked.

"Da?" Russia smiled.

"No, brother will be with me," Belarus hissed, much to Russia's dismay.

The discussion continued until midnight, where everyone was really too tired to care where they slept for one night anymore. Mac ended up sleeping with Dominic, Spain, and the Italies, so she waved goodbye to Ashton as her best friend went to her own room with the Britons, Canada, and Hailey. They both had to deal with four other people sleeping near them, and that was going to be unbearable. At least she got her own bed, while Spain had to sleep on the floor (because Romano wouldn't stop protesting.).

Dominic yawned, before informing Mac that he was going to the bathroom. She nodded consent, slipping drowsily under her bed's covers. She lazily watched Dominic trot out of the room.

Sleep came quick and easy.

* * *

**A/N**

**Heh heh heh. Next chapter is going to be fun to write. Damn computer for deleting the fun part. **

**Oh well, R&R? Sorry for the super duper slow update. I'm writing Chp. 3 for Terrible Things currently, so please bear with me, people who read my work! Thanks!**

**Signing out, Rainy!**


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